


Judgment Day

by Esperata



Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Episode Related, Established Relationship, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24023119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Riddler has been waiting all evening for Penguin to finish up his business so they can get together. The call, when he gets it though, is not what he expects.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 12
Kudos: 72





	Judgment Day

**Author's Note:**

> Set around the episode "Judgment Day"
> 
> I've had this in mind since I finished writing "Do You Mind?". Its not exactly a sequel but could be read as one. To be honest I simply felt I'd left things incomplete without addressing the final episode.

Edward had been expecting a call from Ozzie all evening. He knew Penguin was busy conducting deals with Killer Croc and Two-Face but he’d promised to let him know when that was done so Ed could head over for some quality time. In the meantime Riddler had been distracting himself by going over his latest heist plans with his hired help.

They were employed for their formidable size rather than their intelligence so Ed took his time making everything as simple as he could for them. He hadn’t even bothered to recite the riddle he’d sent to the GCPD knowing explaining that to them would be a waste of everyone’s time. They didn’t need to know all the particulars. Just their role.

After walking them through the plan several times however he was satisfied they would manage not to screw it up and began to speculate again on how long it would be before Oswald rang. Killer Croc might kick up a fuss when he found out the price for his diamond wasn’t as high as he’d wanted but Ed knew Os could handle that. He had the whole rogues gallery over a barrel in terms of fencing goods. Very few of them stood a chance of getting a deal anywhere else and in fact were likely to be snitched if they tried. The price of fame.

A ridiculous grin spread over his face as he thought about the enviable position his lover had carved for himself. He was at the top of their particular food chain. The police couldn’t touch him, since he had complete deniability in knowing any of the goods were stolen, and his legitimate business ventures concealed a lot of money laundering. He could theoretically do very well just off his legal activities but where was the fun in that?

They still shared their love of the game even if the game particulars differed. Edward thrilled to the cat and mouse dance with the agents of the law while Oswald preferred the political and social manoeuvring against the upper class elite. Riddler’s prime foe was the Batman, Penguin’s, Bruce Wayne. Both very different challenges yet each equally formidable.

Finally his phone rang and he leapt to answer it.

“Ozzie,” he purred.

“Am I speaking to an Edward?”

The female voice was wholly unexpected and Riddler found himself blinking stupidly. Briefly he pulled the phone away from his ear to confirm the caller ID was Oswald and then returned it.

“Yes? Who is this? How have you got Oswald’s phone?”

“My name is Nurse Katherine. I’m calling from Gotham General Hospital. Mister Cobblepot had you listed as an emergency contact. I had to use his phone since you apparently block unregistered numbers.”

All the wheels in his brain that had spun to a halt now started revolving slowly as he struggled to process the information. In the silence she continued with her message.

“I thought I should inform you that he’s been admitted in critical condition.”

He inhaled sharply.

“What happened? How is he? Is he going to be alright?”

“I think it would be best if you came here.” She paused before adding. “Sooner rather than later.”

Ed dumped the phone into his pocket without bothering to hang up and ran for the door.

◑

Batman had only stopped by to see if he could learn anything useful from Penguin but the ruckus from the front desk distracted him. He might have left well enough alone except for the fact he recognised the voice shouting angrily and wouldn’t wish dealing with that particular headache on anyone. Detouring from his path to Penguin’s window therefore he instead strode in through the front doors, almost succeeding in focusing everyone’s attention.

Riddler however was utterly fixated on getting information from the woman on duty.

“You called me for Pete’s sake! If you aren’t going to tell me what’s wrong with him why did you even bother!”

“As I said,” the harassed woman attempted to explain. “We can’t let anyone through. Without ID-”

“ID? _ID_? Do you not recognise me? Or do you think Halloween has come early?”

“Visual recognition is not sufficient for ID.”

“Its always been damn well sufficient for concerned citizens to report me to the police before!”

Ed was leaning threateningly over the desk by now and Batman grabbed his arm to pull him back. The action provoked a hair-trigger response and Ed spun around with his free fist aimed at his face. Batman easily caught it and forcibly lowered it so he was restraining him by both arms. The action drew a frustrated growl but it was clear to see the man was still barely bothered by his own situation.

“Typical,” he muttered. “Can’t recognise me to let me through, despite _calling me_ ,” -he snapped sideways at the nurse again- “but know who I am well enough to turn me in.”

Batman paid no attention to the complaint, and deliberately ignored the way his eyes were glistening wetly, as he glanced instead to the staff on duty.

“I’ll take it from here.”

He turned to head through to the corridors, one hand still gripping Riddler firmly, but halted as the nurse tried to interrupt again.

“You can’t go through there. All visitors need-” 

He had no patience to listen any further and simply glared back over his shoulder to silence her before answering.

“I’m investigating the attack tonight. You can check with Commissioner Gordon if you like but I suggest I let you do your job and you let me do mine.”

She finally deferred to his authority and they continued on their way. Once through the main doors, Ed found his voice again.

“Attack?”

The sudden quiet tone drew Batman’s attention and he glanced to Edward again. Now, instead of the famous villain, all he saw was a man worried for his partner. He sighed and punched the call button for the lift.

“I spoke to Raven and Lark. They said a figure dressed as a judge was responsible.”

“But what did he do to Ozzie!” Ed wailed even as he followed on Batman’s heels. The doors slid shut behind them and the vigilante turned to meet his gaze.

“I don’t know much more than you. The girls were strung up and didn’t see anything. The EMTs found Penguin unconscious beneath one of his exhibits from the design studio.”

Edward bit his lip anxiously, eyes watching the illuminated floor levels but mind clearly elsewhere. As they came to a stop and the doors opened he instinctively fell into step behind Batman, who mentally traced the path to the room he’d been aiming for previously. Memorising the hospital layout had never been a conscious decision but seemed to have happened given his frequent visits over the years.

The first worrying sign Batman noticed was that Penguin’s private room was unguarded. He’d seen his familiar cabal of rogues beaten many times, often by his own hand, and the hospital rarely left them without a guard. Stepping inside the room proved his worst suspicions correct. The man was not only unconscious but was hooked up to breathing apparatus.

Behind him Edward let out a gasp and darted to his bedside, hand immediately reaching out to stroke across his forehead and into his hair.

“Oh Ozzie!”

It was partly out of respect for his privacy as he quietly sobbed but also out of duty that Batman ignored them both to read through the medical sheets hanging on the end of the bed. Clearly he would be getting no information out of the Penguin but possibly his injuries might turn up something interesting, maybe indicating something from before this Judge pinioned him.

Nothing special leaped out at him, all the notes being expected from the circumstances in which he was found.

“Well?” Edward’s voice wavered slightly but still held a determined tone.

Glancing over, Batman could see his eyes were continuing to leak tears but his face was set with fierce determination.

“There’s no new evidence for me to work with. He has several broken ribs, severe bruising on his back, particularly focused along his spine. Probably there will be additional problems in that region to be determined later. His ankle shattered and his lung was pierced. The doctors have stabilised him but his body needs time to heal. Then they can investigate if there will be residual issues needing attention.”

“I’m going to kill them,” Ed growled. “This Judge. I’m going to kill them.”

Batman’s entire posture changed and he faced down Riddler with a firm set to his jaw.

“You have a choice right now Edward. I’m prepared to leave you here, with Oswald, as long as I don’t think you’re going to cause any trouble. I will deal with the Judge. You have my word. But what is your priority right now? Getting in my way and possibly becoming a victim yourself? Or staying with your lover?”

For a moment Batman almost doubted what he would choose. Then the man’s eyes slid sideways again to the prone form lying so still beside them and he sunk into himself again.

“I’ll stay here,” he answered.

The vigilante nodded in satisfaction and moved across to the window. He paused once more before leaving however.

“Penguin’s tough,” he offered consolingly. “He’ll pull through.”

He caught Edward’s distracted nod in response and then was gone into the night. Ready to hunt down this new individual who thought they could take the law into their own hands before he could actually kill someone.

◑

It wasn’t that Edward didn’t want to stay by Oswald’s side – of _course_ he did – only that his frustration grew minute by minute as he didn’t seem to be doing any good. Neither for Oswald, who showed no sign of awareness that he even had company, nor in getting revenge upon the individual who put him here. The sound of the machinery was also beginning to drive him to distraction, being just ever so slightly out of sync.

He was aware of the nurses side-eyeing him when they stopped by to check on their patient and it made him anxious. The occasional one gave him a sympathetic smile but most seemed resentful of him being there. He wasn’t even sure if it was because he and Os were in a gay relationship or because of their status as criminals but it probably wouldn’t be long before the police became aware of his presence and then they’d be dragging him off to Arkham. Never mind that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, or that there was currently a loose cannon playing god in the city.

Turning the TV on helped distract him from the shrinking walls until a news article reported Killer Croc had only narrowly avoided death from the new self-appointed guardian of Gotham. How long was this going to go on? Were the police even doing anything? Riddler would concede Batman was a man of his word, and at any rate probably disliked the competition, but with the citizens and councillors siding with the new vigilante how long could he hold his pre-eminent crime fighter position?

As time ticked by his thoughts cycled round and round. The likelihood of capture the longer he remained here, the uselessness he felt as he watched Oswald so unresponsive, and the utter disregard of the GCPD as to whether any of them lived or died. Ultimately they all condensed into one overriding certainty; he had to do something. Luckily for him he already had the perfect set up ready to go.

Pausing to stroke Oswald’s head again, and place a lingering kiss to the forehead, he breathed a brisk promise; both to return soon and to have the head of his attacker ready to serve on a silver platter. Then he slipped his way out the door and away from the hospital, careful to avoid any suspicious gazes who might try to interfere.

His henchmen were waiting right where he’d left them with seemingly no new thought having entered their heads in the interim. Riddler dismissed the thought of sharing his new ambition to bait this judge character but did instruct them explicitly to shoot anyone who tried to interfere on sight. If they noted the change of his usual MO from giving challengers a chance to prove their worth then neither mentioned it and he left them checking their weapons to go ensure his own appearance was satisfactory.

The target wasn’t especially extravagant, which was probably just as well since he hardly felt like performing for a major crowd, but the Golden Quill brunch did contain numerous distinguished authors who Riddler had been looking forward to engaging as a more intellectual audience than his usual fare. However he was aware that his routine this time around was hardly dazzling though given the situation he felt excused for his lack of flamboyance.

Yet he was disappointed to find the police were not prepared for him. It wasn’t a surprise that _they_ hadn’t solved his riddle but what did irritate him was the realisation that they hadn’t even thought him worth the time of their consulting with Batman. _He_ would have solved the riddle for them easily even if he’d had more pressing matters to attend to himself. It ate at Nygma slightly that he was being dismissed as just a trivial annoyance.

Although perhaps Batman had advised the GCPD the heist was unlikely to go ahead, given he thought Ed would be staying at the hospital? Or maybe the more likely conclusion was that the police truly weren’t bothered about crooks like him. That it had been deliberate to leave Batman out of the loop this time because didn’t it make sense that the new vigilante would also tacitly have the backing of the GCPD? Perhaps more so for his aggressive methods than the old one. Maybe this was in fact all a play within the police department to replace one costumed crime fighter with another and let the Judge deal with Riddler himself.

By the time he’d concluded there would be no backup from the official agents of the law it was too late to do anything. He was mid heist and facing the prospect of dealing with this new foe alone rather than acting as bait in a convenient trap. The last recollection he had before everything went to hell was that maybe he should have told the Batman this idea rather than relying on guesswork.

His henchmen were next to useless, having been focused on the obvious entrances and exits rather than anticipating a sneak attack. Although they redirected their attention remarkably quickly for large men they nevertheless weren’t quick enough to evade the trap laid by the Judge. As Riddler found himself entangled in a heavy chain dropping round him from the ceiling, his two men fell to the ground, held fast by wooden boards dropped shut about their hands. He wriggled free of the metal serpent, his mind still running fast enough to both admire the use of such powerful magnets in the restraints on his men and to be grateful it had not been applied to his own restrictive chains.

Before he could congratulate himself too much on his escape however he looked up to see his opponent ready to deal the decisive blow

“It’s about time someone threw the book at you.”

Riddler wondered who would appreciate the joke as the large prop book suspended above him fell. After all, there was no-one who’d bothered to check on him. No-one who cared about people like him. No-one at all.

Then he was knocked him out cold.

◑

Blinking awake in and of itself was something of a surprise. His last memory was of darkness and isolation. Crushing blackness hiding him to be lost and forgotten. Now everything around him was a blur of bright whiteness and only one conclusion made sense. Except, as he instinctively inhaled, a bruised achiness wrapped itself around him making his head swim unpleasantly.

Not heaven then. Which actually made more sense even if it was disappointing. He’d never believed in the whole heaven and hell myth but if he had then he would have concluded his destination wasn’t heaven after his crimes.

“Oh,” he slurred. “Hell.”

“Oh hell indeed,” a new voice interrupted him irritably.

He rolled towards it in a fumbling hurry of desperation, uncaring of the pain from his body as he moved, only needing to see he was really there.

“Oswald.”

It took Edward a second to recognise that although Oswald was short, he wasn’t usually _this_ short, and then a further few seconds to decipher that was because he was sat in a wheelchair. He was still trying to unravel the mystery of his presence while the other man carried on talking.

“What in _hell_ were you thinking? Taking on the Judge like that. Did you really have to prove yourself so badly where I had failed?”

“This can’t be hell,” Edward muttered.

“What?” Oswald frowned, temporarily derailed.

“You’re here. Hell would be never seeing you. So this isn’t hell. But it hurts so…”

He tailed off in confusion, wondering why he couldn’t organise his thoughts properly. The sound of a squeaky wheel indicated Oswald shifting and he looked back down anxiously. Happily he found a soft expression looking up at him and a hand reaching for his.

“You’re not dead Edward.”

The anger was gone from his voice, leaving only concern. Edward clutched at the hand, reassured by its clamminess.

“I thought I might have lost you,” he admitted, pulling the hand to his cheek and settling back on the pillow, albeit nearer the edge of his bed. He received a disbelieving scoff.

“So you went to get yourself killed too?”

“No!” He realised in hindsight that he probably had been less concerned than usual but surely not to the point of being suicidal. “I wanted to avenge you though. Bring you his head on a platter.”

“How romantic,” Oswald mocked.

It was too much for Edward’s emotions to take in that moment, not to mention whatever medication he was probably on right now, and he pressed his face into the thin pillow to hide his reaction. Of course he hadn’t released Oswald’s hand so he could still feel him shuddering.

“Oh.” Oswald reached with his other hand to stroke gently over his head. “Hush now. I was just worried about you my dear. But you’re here now. I’m here. We’re both safe.”

Edward looked up again at that, finally assessing the condition of his lover and recalling what he could of his injuries. He noticed an oxygen mask tucked to his side and felt a stab of pain at the sight.

“How are you?” he asked softly.

Oswald grimaced slightly in response.

“I’ve been better but I’ll pull through.”

“And how am I?” asked Edward with some puzzlement, realising he had yet to work out where his main injuries were.

The hand continued caressing his head as Oswald answered which was soothing.

“Severely bruised but amazingly nothing broken. Most likely concussed. You’re probably a bit dazed to be honest.”

“That’s good,” he murmured before catching Oswald’s frown and clarifying. “It explains why my thoughts are all…” His free hand waved vaguely to encompass his befuddled state.

“Yes,” Oswald agreed hesitatingly slightly. “You’ll need to be monitored for at least a week. Possibly two.”

“I have to stay here a _week_?”

“Not necessarily here. It only requires you have someone with you for that time. I thought perhaps… we might kill two birds with one stone so to speak. Since I’ll undoubtedly require a little help managing as well.”

Normally Edward would have picked up on that quicker but he could probably be forgiven his slow reaction in the circumstances.

“You want me to move in with you?”

“You must admit it’s a convenient solution.” Oswald began to retreat both verbally and physically. “But if you’d rather not-”

Ed caught at his retreating hand quickly.

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” he assured.

Oswald obviously settled, shifting his hand more comfortably to hold Ed’s.

“Then I’ll set the wheels in motion.”

The resolution felt like a weight off Edward’s mind, although he hadn’t been aware of any anxiety, and he allowed himself to relax. As his eyes drifted shut again he was reassured to see Oswald’s soft face looking so lovingly at him.

◑

As it turned out, Oswald needed more than a ‘little help’ though at least his penthouse was wheelchair accessible. He had already had a workman out to fit extra handles in his bathroom before the pair were free to leave the hospital but there was nothing to be done in helping him reach all the work surfaces and shelves.

Edward however found himself rather enjoying being so necessary in Oswald’s life. While the Penguin initially found it frustrating to have to ask for his drinks and paperwork, or to receive help getting dressed, Edward’s sheer delight in providing the service made it much more bearable. He even seized the opportunity to start cooking for him since getting them both out to visit a restaurant was more trouble than either felt worth.

As the bruising on his spine faded and the inflammation began to subside Oswald was able to trial switching to crutches for short periods. He found it tiring but sheer determination powered him through. Ed had to remind him not to over stress his foot while that was still healing and Oswald would reluctantly concede to sit again.

Yet it was becoming clear that before long Edward’s presence would not be required at all. On the one hand it was getting to the point where Riddler felt he needed to enact some scheme anyway. Previous thoughts of being belittled as a criminal threat lingered in his memory and he wanted to do something big to make his mark once again on the city.

However he also felt a rising fear in the prospect of their domestic arrangement being over. It was undeniably comforting to have someone around to talk to. He enjoyed being regarded and consulted over everyday matters of no real importance to anyone but themselves. And the knowledge that every night he’d have a warm body to cuddle up to made him unwilling to ever leave.

He put off voicing the concern for as long as he was able to but then Oswald accidently raised the issue.

Eddie came out of the shower with thoughts to make a start on their dinner. He had several ideas, and had been mentally going over both what they had that would need using and also what might appeal to Oswald’s palette, when he was stopped short by the triumphant grin on the other man’s face.

“I’ve taken care of dinner tonight Eddie so you don’t have to worry.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s shoulders slumped. “I guess you really don’t need me here anymore.”

It had not been his intention to say that but the words slipped out without his permission.

“What? Where has that come from? Eddie?”

As he avoided answering, Edward fiddled with the edge of his robe, but then he caught Oswald’s concerned look and relented.

“Well, you’re managing well enough round the place without me now. Cooking was pretty much the only thing you really still needed help with.”

“So… that’s it? You want to leave because I ordered take out?”

“No I don’t _want_ to leave but…” his anger faltered and he deflated. “I don’t really have a reason to stay.”

Oswald hobbled towards him slightly.

“Do you need a reason? If you _want_ to stay… you’re welcome.”

The idea that Oswald might genuinely wish for him to stay hadn’t occurred to Ed. Penguin was so conscious of appearing self-sufficient and unassailable that Edward had thought he’d almost be counting the days ‘til he was gone.

“Are you saying _you_ want me to stay?” he countered awkwardly.

His evasive answer received a huff but Oswald too averted his eyes, focusing them on where his hand was pressed to the table for support, fingers going slightly white under his weight.

“I like having you here Edward,” he eventually avowed with determination, raising his gaze to fix upon him. “I’d like us to try it as a permanent arrangement.”

The declaration made Edward’s heart flutter and he knew his face would have betrayed him but he couldn’t help but bite his lip in sudden anxiety. He knew himself too well to immediately agree, despite the strong temptation. Yet it wasn’t fair to Oswald to let him make any false assumptions.

“I’m not sure how permanent I could be Oswald,” he said hesitantly. “I _want_ it to be permanent, I do, but I’m still dedicated to my criminal career. I can’t operate as Riddler from here. It would be far too risky.”

To his relief his explanation received a smile.

“I know you wouldn’t be here every minute of every day,” he assured. “Truth to tell I think we’d both go stir crazy after a while of that. And I will have my own business interests to return to soon enough as well. Of course you’ll be free to race off and challenge the Bat for as long as it takes you to bring him down. I’m only suggesting we both view this place as home, for when we need it.”

“Home,” Ed echoed fondly, reaching out to cup the full cheek of his beloved. “What can be both given and stolen, yet is broken without being touched or seen?”

The riddle provoked a familiar chuckle.

“I don’t know Eddie. What is it?”

“The heart,” he whispered as he lent in for a brief kiss.

He curtailed it as he sensed the angle putting too much pressure on Oswald’s lower back and weakened leg, instead pulling back to stare into his sparkling eyes.

“Sit down,” he insisted after a moment. “I’ll lay the table.”

By the time he’d found the cutlery and mats, the take out had arrived and they both busied themselves spreading the containers out between them. Then, once they were both settled ready to tuck in, Oswald halted proceedings by raising his glass in an obvious toast.

“To us,” he proposed simply.

“To home,” Ed countered, bringing their glasses together lightly.

It received a gracious tilt of the head before Oswald took a sip and returned his attention to dinner. Ed watched him fondly as he piled his plate with something of everything and reflected it was true what they said; home was where the heart was.

**Author's Note:**

> Needless to say in the episode Batman deals appropriately with the Judge.


End file.
